


Dick's Sporting Goods

by trashemdudes



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Dick does, Guess who works at Dick's Sporting Goods, M/M, also the single dad w/ a daughter is Roy and Lian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 10:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6700537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashemdudes/pseuds/trashemdudes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason goes shopping with the tiny tots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dick's Sporting Goods

Jason yanks on Damian’s hood hard enough to topple any average stumpy legged toddler to the floor. In Damian’s case, it just means that he’s pissed him off. Damian turns to glare, gnashing his teeth.

  
“Look. Demon child. If I lose you, child services will have my head.”

  
Damian’s offers a seething look of pure hatred in response, mellowed by his flushed chubby cheeks. Real cute. Jason’s going to have to remember to bring his pepper spray to bed. Like for training cats. Except with pepper and for evil humans.

  
“Hey fuck you. Twice,” Jason mutters under his breath, and then loudly, “And we all know I look better whole.”

  
Damian snorts, turning back to the store to survey it like it was his kingdom. Probably because this is the survivalist section with knives gleaming prettily from where they're hanging.

  
Jason bites back another child inappropriate retort at Damian’s pure glee before pausing at the tugging at his sleeve.

  
He turns to find Cass pointing giddily at the ballet sign across the store.

 

Jason can’t help it, really when he holds his hand up, “Up top, you badass motherfucker.”

  
She almost breaks a few of his fingers in the process, but Jason feels proud of her. She couldn’t have seen any of the ballet products from this far and there wasn’t any visual aid on the sign - which meant she read it by herself.

  
“Can...I go...?”

  
Cass rocks back and forth on her feet impatiently as Jason considers letting her run wild and free. He stops in his thoughts to check on the tiny ball of unrepressed five year old anger.

  
“ _Son of a_ \- Talia Al Ghul,” Jason mutters. He’s gone.

  
He turns around to - not find Cass. Expected. But also irritating that she gets the jump on him each time.

  
God. Jason sorely regrets letting Barbara go to the wheelchair b-ball competition. It was their unsaid and under the table agreement that she took the brats on the weekend so that Jason wasn’t jailed for homicide.

  
She’d better be beating those other chumps _bloody_.

  
Jason curses to high hell in every language he knows, including sign language, flipping both his middle finger upwards at the exercise clothing.

  
"Um. Sir."

  
Jason snaps around to meet tan skin and really nice muscles.

  
“...my face is up here.”

  
I wish my face was down there. Jason bites back his knee jerk response because he’s never been a fan of harassment, but -

  
“...Did you need help with anything?”

  
Jason ran his fingers through his hair. “Yea, actually I’m looking for something.”

  
“Yeah?” The man smiles politely - Jason zeroes in on the nametag: Dick.

  
It’s hard not saying something stupid. Really _hard_.

  
“So I was wondering about baseballs.”

  
Dick raises an eyebrow, “What about them?”

  
“Yeah, well, y’know,” Jason says pseudo bashfully, “I’m good, but I just wanna know if you have any advice on how to best get a hit in. What kind of bat should I be using?” Or gloves? Does he prefers gloves or bats?

  
“Oh hey. Lucky. Usually acrobatic’s my thing, but I’m actually pretty knowledgeable about bats.”

  
Dick grins.

 

Jason grins wider.

  
“For bats, well it’s probably best to test them out to see what kind of weight or shape you prefer...If it’s practice, have you tried batting cages? There’re some nearby that I know of.”

  
I’ve tried some cages. Jason manages not to say. Because he has.

  
And also he _has_.

  
“Hmm, yeah, gotcha...also I have another question.”

  
“Shoot.”

  
Jason has many things he'd like to say in response to that in reference to Dick's name, his toned guns and so on, but he also wants to actually get some advice, “I was wondering if you could show me where to find some resistance bands are and if you have any that are easier to use for someone who’s disabled.”

  
Dick takes it in stride and smiles, a little more genuinely this time, “Yeah. I’ve got a good idea of what might work. Disabled as in-”

  
“Spinal injury. She can’t use her legs.”

  
“Hmm... yeah. A resistance band should work well for that.” Jason trails after the man looking him over. His gait is graceful - a little like Cass’ actually.

  
Mainly Jason can’t help the way his eyes are drawn to his back. How they slide down over the way the cloth is stretched between his shoulder blades, how Jason can practically see the dimples of shoulder blades and the curve of his spine. The way the cloth stretches over his arms, pulled taut over the tanned skin.

  
“So...Dick.”

  
Dick pauses, looks down at his nametag for a moment as if bewildered then up again with a grin playing on his lips, “Yeah?”

  
“Am I meeting the bona fide namesake and owner?”

  
He shakes his head, tucking a hand into his pocket, glancing at Jason sideways, “Bonafide namesake yeah, but not the owner. My...dad actually bought out the store and named it after me on my sixteenth.”

  
Jason whistles. He’d gotten a beating on his sixteenth. “Damn.”

  
“Yeah,” He runs his fingers through his hair, “Over the top for sure - ah and here we are. Resistance bands galore.” He looks through the packages before stopping at one. “How many pounds?”

  
Jason raises his eyebrows. “Me? Well two hundred. If you don’t believe me, I can show you,” he offers with a little smile, leaning against nearby shelf and flexing. He is nothing if not an opportunistic piece of shit.

  
Dick just raises his eyebrows in turn, trying not to laugh.

  
“But if you’re talking about who this is for, for her....waaay past...ninety,” Jason scrunches up his nose trying to recall the labels on Barbara’s dumbbells. “Maybe somewhere in the mid hundreds?”

  
“Gofit superband might work out okay. This one can take from seventy to a hundred forty.”

  
“Yeah...” Jason bends over to inspect the brightly colored band. Before he turns around to say, “So rich boy, I was-”

  
There’s a loud crash and a high pitched scream.

  
Jason swears. He’s going to beat Damian with a fucking Cain. He’ll bait her with Giselle tickets and watch her whump the brat while chugging the kid's juice boxes and munching on his animal crackers - wearing fucking chill as fuck sunglasses and lounging on the fucking patio for a tan.

  
Glancing towards where the sound had come from, he starts sprinting as he mutters, “Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.”

  
Jason is surprised by the clap of leather on the floor beside him and finds Dick easily keeping pace with him. Dick raises his eyebrows and asks, “Who?”

  
“Kid or -” Cass could definitely be a perpetrator. “- kids possibly.”

  
“Oh. There’s nothing in the reach of kids that could hurt them. No worries.”

  
Jason lets out a long suffering sigh as they turn the corner, his shoes skidding along the floor, “No. I’m not-”

  
Jason zeroes in on the sight of Damian stepping on a man’s balls and Cass clinging onto a shelf, ready to bodyslam the man writhing on the ground. So. Kids. He’ll have to rethink ways of torturing the demon brat.

  
“Damian. Cassandra.” Jason yells, his tone sharp and harsh. God. He sounds like a responsible adult. He’ll fix that. “If you’re gonna assault someone, don’t do it in broad daylight where people can identify you.”

  
Both of them pause and Cass chews on her lip before leaping lightly down reluctantly. Damian takes longer, but ends up using the man’s crotch and stomach as a stepping stone to get to Jason.

  
Jason bites his tongue trying not to laugh as Damian angrily walks up to him.

  
In front of him, Damian crosses his stubby little arms. “This cretin was trying to steal. Moreover, he displayed an unacceptable interest in Cain.”

  
Jason pauses. Glances at Cass and her wide brown eyes, glaring a little sullenly at the ground.

  
Son of a - then Jason finds himself watching Dick slam the man up against the shelf,“You’re going to stay away from any children from now on. Do you understand me?”

  
Hot. Jason mentally whistles appreciatively. This is a guy who won’t take any shit.

  
The man bobbles his head, straining for breath as he goes red in the face and after a few moments that Dick waits to let his point sink in, he drops him and then twists him around to swiftly handcuff him in one elegant movement.

  
Jason just thinks it’s really fucking kinky that he just has handcuffs on him.

  
He glances up at Jason, offering a little wry smile, ““I’ll put him in the GCPD database.”

  
Jason flinches, “...you’re police?”

  
“You say that like its a bad thing,” Dick replies wryly, “Relax. I’m not going to arrest a toddl-” Jason makes a grab and slide for Damian who’s struggling and screaming curses in Arabic. Dick purses his lips, wide eyed and completely incredulous.

  
Jason finally gets a firm hold on Damian after several moments of grappling and squeezes just enough so that it borders on painful before he glances back up a Dick.

“This...thing here...does not like being called a tiny human.”

  
“I- uh..wouldn’t arrest your...partners here,” Dick finishes tactfully, eyes lit up in horror and amusement.

  
Jason nods grimly, “So then you don’t work here?”

  
“No. I was just helping out a friend since his daughter got sick and he’s a single dad,” Dick glances between Damian’s red and spitting face and Jason’s attempt at keeping a straight one.

  
Jason grits his teeth as Damian digs _his_ teeth into his arm,“Damian. Holy shit. I’ll get you dog food, so you can feed the strays if you just-” Jason grit out, “stay. Still. And don’t murder Dick.”

  
Because honestly, Damian has no sense of _this is mine. this is jason’s. stay out_ , and has murdered more than a few erections in his short life.

  
Damian struggles a few more moments - probably for posturing more than anything - before kicking at Jason to let him go. He lets him after a moment of careful hesitation.

Damian drops to the ground with a purposefully heavy thud, because by ground, Jason really means his feet.

  
Just in case, he still keeps a hold on Damian.

  
He seriously needs to figure out a legal way to be petty back to that evil imp. Probably feeding the stray animals more treats and flaunting how much more they like him over Damian would work.

  
In that moment of fantasy, Jason happens to glance towards the handcuffed man’s direction and sneers before catching Dick’s eye and plays innocent.

  
Dick takes that time to look the three of them over and asks, “Miss, are you alright?”

  
Cass offers a little sassy roll of her eyes and then nods firmly, “Didn’t need...your help...but...thanks...”

  
Dick’s expression is a wicked grin, “Yeah, seems like you didn’t.” He turns back to Jason, cocking his head, “Alright well, did you need anything else...?”

  
“Yeah,” Jason’s smile turns wolfish, “I had heard that you had some pretty sporting goods, but damn.”

  
There’s a long silence that includes Damian trying to gnaw Jason’s hand off so he’ll let go of his sweater and Cass silently shaming him. At least Dick’s laughing.

“I mean, I came here for Dick’s sporting goods, and my customer review is that I am _definitely_ satisfied."

  
Dick rubs his jaw, still shaking a little from the remnants of laughter, “So, yeah. I’m done in ten minutes. If you want, while I get that guy’s name and picture and my coworker comes, you can get your...partners something cool, and...then we can go to the batting cages?”

  
“Sounds good.”

  
Jason gets Damian and Cass a shinai and ballet flats respectively. For himself, he gets Dick.

  
And his sporting goods.

  
And yeah, also Babs’ gift because it was on sale too and Jason’s a sucker for that. (For _many_ things actually.)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this is weird, but I can never tell if someone wants a reply to their comment or not. So if you do comment, and want a response, put an @ at the beginning!


End file.
